


masterpieces

by aheadfulloffollies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fake Dating, Gay Remus Lupin, Gay Sirius Black, High School AU, M/M, Modern AU, POV Remus Lupin, anyway i still can't tag so, but he's also not great??, essentially just a lot of gay panic, i've said that about a lot of ships but like, idk it's mostly just remus panicking there isn't time for other people, in other news, it's true, regulus is not a bad person in this fic, this is very gay, wolfstar is my entire life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:06:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28320600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aheadfulloffollies/pseuds/aheadfulloffollies
Summary: Remus takes his best friend, Sirius, up on an offer to fake date for a weekend with the Black family despite his feelings. High school & modern AU.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 105





	masterpieces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anyabarnes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyabarnes/gifts).



> PLEASE DON'T BE MAD I FOUND YOUR AO3 THROUGH SOMEWHAT STALKERISH METHODS AMELIA I PROMISE I'M NOT A REALLY CREEPY WEIRDO I JUST AM AN ANXIOUS FOOL SO ASKING YOU FOR IT SEEMED LIKE. HARD AND WEIRD IDK FLAKDSFH;SAKDHLF I'M SORRY ANYWAY ILY MERRY CHRISTMAS
> 
> sorry it's not smut. either way i hope you like it???

Remus was, in a word,  fucked. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Helping Sirius piss off his family while getting the benefits of a fancy vacation he would never in a million years be able to afford was a win-win. But, in his excitement, he’d completely overlooked the fact that they had to pretend to date. Now, holding hands with Sirius on the train, trying his best to ignore the stone-cold glares everyone but Regulus were sending their way approximately ten times per minute, the whole situation surrounding this predicament was kind of hard to ignore.

Laying it out neatly, he counted five foreseeable problems. 

One: he had a crush on Sirius, whom he had to pretend to date. 

Two: showing these romantic feelings at such a point in time would not only be incredibly inappropriate, but absolutely, ridiculously  _ stupid _ . And as a general rule, Remus tried not to do stupid things if they didn’t have an enjoyable outcome. 

Three: admitting or giving away (the more likely option, considering his aversion to confrontation or unwanted dreams of bliss when they involved one of his best friends) his feelings would not have an enjoyable outcome.

Four: despite Sirius’s constant warnings, near-weekly rants, and several unwelcoming predicaments Remus had to help him get out of on prior occasions, he had somehow entirely skipped over the very real concept that the Black family was not a friendly sort. Or even approachable. They were more akin to a basketload of very angry snakes.

Five: he was currently holding Sirius’s hand on a far-too-posh train and felt like he might actually die, but that would probably make this situation a lot sticker for Sirius, so a short death where he’d go happy was unfortunately off the table. But he still wanted to scream. Maybe he could let out a yell, just a small one, and feign it as surprise or something else of the sort if an opportunity arose. To get it out of his system.

This was not a  _ good _ situation. That was a fact. Logistically, there was only a 10% chance he’d get through this entire weekend without doing something horribly wrong and making Sirius hate him.

Of course, Remus had never been a logical enough person to care. And right now, he felt like he might fly.

“Hey,” Sirius whispered into his ear, tendrils of hair brushing Remus’s face in a gentle caress. “You look cute in that sweater. Good choice, it’ll piss off my parents.” His face might have turned bright red as he mumbled thanks and adjusted the ratty yet comfortable red-and-gold sweater.

Oh, yes. He had wings and was going to fly straight into the fucking sun, like a goddamn idiot. He was Icarus and Icarus was he.

-

The next morning had gone  phenomenally. Sirius and Remus were, of course, separated into different bedrooms the night before on account of the supposed gayness between them. Sirius put up quite a fight, but in the end, the Blacks insisted. This time, however, he had won- albeit a much smaller fight. Remus had already known it, to an extent, but he was realizing now just how annoying Sirius could be when he wanted, and looked on the whole time like a proud boyfriend.

Following the extended screaming match, Remus then got to experience exhibit B: holding Sirius’s hand as they walked through a dusty old art museum, alone. (Sirius insisited they must continue to hold hands in case his parents or Regulus wandered by- and to anger any other homophobic fleabags- and Remus could hardly argue with that, now, could he?)

“I can’t believe you find this interesting,” Sirius groaned as they finally moved on from a 1970s piece Remus had been staring at for approximately five minutes.

“I don’t,” he protested. “Most of it, at least.” He charged forward to a blue-and-green painting next to the archway leading to the next room, nearly dragging Sirius behind him.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sirius laughed. “How long is this one going to take?”

“Hm?” Remus didn’t even look up from the painting, feigning complete and utter interest, though his cheeks were burning and he could hardly register what was in front of him. God, that endearing tone… did Sirius even know how he was messing with his heart?

He shook his head and laughed in response, glancing through the archway and into the next room instead of joining Remus at the painting. That was probably for the best, he told his rapidly-beating yet disappointed heart.

“Hey,” Sirius whispered. “They’re ‘round this corner here.”

Shit.

“Oh,” he said dumbly.

“Yeah. Come on,” he said stepping close to Remus again with only two long strides- close enough to kiss. “What should we do to freak them out if they come in here?”

_ Don’t mention kissing, do not tell Sirius to kiss you, do not even think about the idea of his lips on yours or his hands in your hair or, even worse, your hands in his- _

“You could kiss me.”

Fuck.

_ Fuck. _

No, he had not just said that, he tried to convince himself, mind nearly short-circuiting, trying to process far too much information all at once. But Sirius’s shocked expression confirmed that, no, it had not been some insanely realistic daydream, he had indeed just told his best friend to kiss him in a museum after a day of fake dating.

For a person wondering what the easiest way to sink into the floor and stop existing was, Remus was far too aware of Sirius’s shock clearing into a smile ten times more sexy than it had any right being. “I could,” he said, tone lazy, offsetting the intense stare he leveled on Remus, leaning down and in close enough that, no, before they couldn’t have kissed, but  _ now _ …

“But the signs say not to touch the masterpieces.” He smiled crookedly and stepped back, typical smile back on his face as he turned to glance at the Black family who Remus hadn’t even noticed enter the room, but had clearly seen the display of… whatever it was they’d just done.

Taking a moment for his mind to catch up to everything that just transpired, Remus froze as he realized what Sirius had said. “Did you call me a masterpiece?” he blurted stupidly, face burning and feet glued to the floor. He was no doubt a sight, but Sirius didn’t seem to mind, leaning against the wall and observing his friend with a small smile. The idea that he had watched him have what could only have been described as a gay panic for what might have been several minutes almost spurred another, but he kept a very small reign on those emotions. Thankfully.

“Yes,” he said, the word tinged with amusement. “I did.”

Remus sputtered for far too long to possibly be considered normal before finally pushing out a word. “Right then,” was what his tongue decided on. “Shall we, erm. Go to that other room?” He gestured limply to the archway they’d been standing near for ages.

“Lead the way.”

-

“Look in love, darling,” Sirius  whispered in his ear, swinging an arm around Remus’s shoulders.

He had no clue how easy that was.

“I could say the same to you” Was his witty reply, lackluster as were most of the things he said at this point. All this back-and-forth between pretending to be dating then suddenly being chummy like the best of friends was exhausting, and he couldn’t keep up.

Sirius chuckled, a deep bass line reverberating through Remus’s whole body. “Don’t worry,” he reassured. “I’ve got that part under control.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he muttered, not even lying. Half of the time he was too overcome with the awareness that if he looked at Sirius when they were pretending like this, his feelings would be visible in an instant, and the other half he tried not to think about it.

“Can’t do that,” Sirius chided in a soft voice. “Hey. Look at me.”

_ Fuck.  _ Please,  _ no, _ Remus wanted to say. I can’t look at you right now or else I’ll never be able to look you in the eye again- you won’t  _ want _ me to. But, of course, that would defeat the entire purpose, so instead he simply did as told.

“Hi,” he whispered weakly, raising his gaze to meet Sirius’s, kind and intense.

“Look. I get that this is awkward as fuck, but…” He ran the hand that wasn’t preoccupied with Remus’s shoulders through his hair, and he thought (not for the first time) how much he’d like to do that for him. “Just this last night, then we’re done.” His smile was forced and tired, and Remus’s heart ached at the sight of it. He wanted to ask what was wrong, to talk it out- even just as friends- but the scream of his anxious, gay mind reminded him that was not a reasonable thing to wish for right now.

Sending a silent, mental apology to Sirius, he merely faked a smile of his own. “Right. Only a day.”

“God.” Sirius shook his head. His eyes were still on Remus, but he was clearly far, far away in his mind. “I never should have asked you to do this.”

_ Well, that’s a bit harsh,  _ both the gay part and the friend part of him objected.

“No,” he said, trying to find the careless confidence that typically came to him so easily. “I wanted to. But,” he added, an uncomfortable thought occuring to him for what should not have been (but was) the first time, “I suppose I’m not very good at it. If you don’t want me to-”

“What?”

_ Shit. _ Sirius was just a tad too loud, and Mrs. Black looked at them with a cutting gaze from where she was sitting and conversing with the rest of the family in a gazebo. Yes, a  _ gazebo. _ Remus hadn’t even known they were actual things anymore, much less that people actually went in them. It wasn’t actually very pleasant, despite the pretty white exterior, though that might have been due to the day’s weather. A lack of wind and some odd cross between sunshine and the greyish absence of it made for nothing to be envied- other than a day inside.

“Boys,” she said flatly. Remus was almost impressed with her ability to make every word directed at her eldest son and his “boyfriend” either entire apathetic or decidedly negative. “Do you have something to contribute to the conversation?”

“No, Mum,” Sirius said with a harsh frown Remus only ever saw on him with his family. He wanted to wipe it away, to kiss every centemetre of that space and transform it into something that made him happier.

_ God. _ He needed to stop this.

“Since Remus and I are lacking in… input, might we head inside?”

Mrs. Black’s lips pursed. She clearly didn’t want them to be in the house alone (who knew what sinful visions she was imagining they might get up to), but also didn’t want to have to deal with Sirius’s nagging any longer. “Very well,” she said primly after a long moment. “Regulus will go with you.”

Regulus, Remus observed, seemed to have no interest in whatever his mother decided either way. “Sure,” he said.

“Fine,” Sirius said flippantly, clearly not in the mood to argue. “C’mon, Remus.”

Slipping into the role of caretaking boyfriend, Remus took Sirius’s hand and headed down the steps of the gazebo into the fancy house awaiting, Regulus in tow. They stepped inside without fanfare, and Sirius immediately began to pull him upstairs, shouting down for Regulus to hear. “We’re not going to fuck, so you don’t have to worry. Stay down and sulk, or whatever it is you do.”

No response from Regulus, not that Remus was keen to know what he had to say about his brother’s profanity anyway. He seemed mildly more passable than the elderly Blacks, but didn’t do or say much that Remus saw. He had to admit that he naturally assumed the worst. “Erm, bye, Regulus!” he called down in turn, Sirius rolling his eyes at him for the effort.

“Where are we going?” he asked, lowering his voice to a normal tone where Regulus wouldn’t hear. Sirius was currently pulling him down the floral-wallpaper halls of the rooming area, but as he so bluntly pointed out to Regulus, they were not going to fuck.

“My room,” he responded, and Remus sputtered for what seemed like the millionth time that weekend. He had never done it much before now, but having to pretend to be Sirius’s boyfriend apparently did such things to him. God, he was a mess. How had he not been found out already?

They didn’t speak again until Sirius pulled him through the oddly fancy door to his oddly fancy room (Remus hadn’t even known fancy doors were a thing until this visit, but apparently they were), shutting the door with a soft  _ click. _

“You don’t think you’re good at this?” Sirius asked immediately, turning on Remus with his hands on his hips.

“Well- I- no, not particularly,” he fumbled.

Remus had never been put under such an excruciating stare, much less from Sirius Black, and he wondered if the proper mental response to this was to be aroused.

No, probably not.

“You’re-” Sirius stopped, and it crossed Remus’s mind for the first time that he might be fumbling a bit, too. Certainly not for the same reasons, but sputtering all the same.

“You’re not bad at it,” he said finally. “Really. I wouldn’t have asked you if you weren’t.”

“Right,” he agreed. “And I wouldn’t have agreed if I didn’t want to, either.”

“Right.” He nodded one too many times. Remus wondered what he had to be confused or anxious about.  _ He _ wasn’t stuck on a fake dating escapade with his best friend he had a very big, very gay crush on. “Well. That’s sorted, then, I suppose?”

“Erm. Yes?” He got the distinct impression they both had many things within this conversation they were withholding. Even though one of these things was Remus’s aforementioned feelings, he didn’t much like not discussing things that needed to be discussed with Sirius; so  _ yes _ was very deliberately phrased as a rather open-ended question.

One that Sirius might hopefully answer, and then the conflict would be resolved, and Remus wouldn’t have to say a thing about his own reserves.

“Yes. Well. The thing is, both of us are very good at this. Dating, I mean. Fake dating.” Sirius hurried to specify, eyes dancing every which way in a complicated game Remus couldn’t quite follow.

“We are.” Were they? He’d been so focused on not revealing his real feelings he hadn’t payed much attention to whether or not they were.

No, that was a lie. He knew every stolen glance, every shared laugh, every long gaze and hand brushing hand. He knew more than he cared to admit.

They were not  _ good _ at this, his mind supplied. They were brilliant.

“Right. And- well- I was thinking, it might be good to do this again in the future. Because of my parents and all.”

Remus couldn’t help but thing that, although Sirius was talking and continuing the conversation as one should when being up-front and open with another, he did not sound at all as he should. He was nothing, right now, but stilted and awkward and jarringly unlike himself.

“Erm. Sure. Listen, are you alright? You seem a bit…”

“No, no,” he said, immediately waving away- both literally and figuratively, with his matching hand gesture- the concerns. “Really. Remus.” He met his gaze, a determination there not quite like anything he’d seen before. “Would you? Be willing to do this again?”

_ No,  _ his mind whispered.  _ I wouldn’t survive it. _

_ Yes, _ his treacherous heart screamed, and his tongue followed suit.

“That’s good then,” Sirius said, seeming genuinely relieved.

“And how would you feel,” he continued, tone dipping considerably softer, a raw and anxious undertone revealing itself, “if we tried this at other times? Without my parents around?”

Remus had never known a blink could signify so much, but there was no way to describe his but entirely confused.

Sirius closed his eyes briefly, running a hand through his beautiful hair, and it struck Remus that it was a complete mess. God, he had never wanted anything more.

“Remus,” he said, tone surprisingly gentle, “I am asking you out on a date.” A pause. Remus’s mind was most certainly short-circuiting now, he thought, and all the other things had only been futile practice for  _ this _ . “A real one.”

Bloody hell.

The silence was devastating, and he willed his mouth to start working again-  _ begged  _ it, even- but to not avail.

“I-”

“Yes,” Remus interrupted, finally wiring his tongue to mind to heart.

“I- what?”

“Yes,” he repeated, speaking fast now to get it all out before he regretted it. “I would love to go on a real date with you, Sirius. I’ve wanted to for nearly a year now, and- well- this entire time I’ve thought I might die from having to pretend but not getting the real thing, but I- God, do you mean it? If you mean it I think I might-”

“Remus.” Sirius stopped his blabbering with a single word, cutting the uncharacteristic rambling off short. Warm hands enveloped his, and Remus dared to let himself feel sparks without trying in vain to dull them.

“Hi,” he said, the word a scarce breath as Sirius neared him until suddenly he kissed him and there weren’t any more sparks but instead an entire block of electricity and dear  _ god _ -

The door opened but neither of them moved away or even seemed to notice until Regulus spoke. “I thought,” he said in an incredibly bored tone, “you weren’t fucking.”

“Excuse you,” Sirius said, separating his and Remus’s lips only by the space necessary to speak. “Neither of our-”

“Okay,” Remus cut in, cheeks burning with the knowledge of what Sirius had been about to say. “Regulus, what are you here for?”

“Oh, nothing,” he said mildly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I just wanted to see if you’d finally gotten it on. Continue.” He shrugged, either oblivious or apathetic to their perplexed stares, and abandoned the room, closing the door behind him.

“Bloody hell,” Sirius whispered once he was gone.

“So this is what death feels like,” Remus observed.

“Pardon?” Sirius seemed alarmed, and Remus didn’t bother stifling his laugh.

“I thought I was dying before, when we were pretending,” he said. “This time it might be real.”

“God, you’re so fucking dramatic,” Sirius said, but he leaned in to kiss him again anyway.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“That’s alright,” he whispered in between kisses. “I am too.”

“Don’t remind me,” Remus muttered, and their laughter followed them all the way to Sirius’s lovely four-poster bed.


End file.
